Temperance
by Neiiya
Summary: A what-if scenario of a little boy's influence on the greatest of demons. The Yondaime's seal is not as perfect as it seems. Pain? What is this? Naruto and Kyuubi: two souls whose destiny is now entwined in a haze of death and despair.


Author's Note: Haven't seen this done before so I thought to give it a try. Note: This is NOT yaoi.

Summary: A what-if scenario of a little boy's influence on the greatest of demons. The Yondaime's seal is not as perfect as it seems. Pain? What is this? Naruto and Kyuubi: two souls whose destiny is now entwined in a haze of death and despair.

Warning: Rated M for strong violence, language, dark themes, possible rape, sex, drugs, alcohol, abuse.

Temperance

Prologue: Backfire

The end was very much like the beginning.

I smiled. The screams of the dying were truly majestic to hear; a cacophony of fierce wails cutting so beautifully through the air, if my heart weren't already stopped I am sure it would burst with glee.

The smell of death; of decay, and disease reached my nose - of bodies ripped into so many shreds the internal organs _leaked_ out unto the blood-stained earth in a messy slop; of the wails and the screams, those wondrous squeals of terror and fright staring right into the great adversity of death and succumbing to the darkness. Thousands of bodies left out to dry in the sun, rotting, festering in the heat; a cesspool of human remains.

Never have I felt such _thrilling _rush of blood coursing through my veins, excitement pulsing within it's monstrous desire. My body _ached_ for this.

My body…

A jolt of electricity screams through my brain, halting the train of thought, at the sudden realization.

And for one brief moment of eternity, one second among the eons I've lived; I felt true fear.

My body.

Although I had had a warning, a brief moment to prepare, I find it hard to shake the fact that this is _me _now. I've always been _me_, in all my eons of existence I've never questioned that, until now. But then again, I've never been confronted by, nor even entertained the thought of, something like this.

Ever.

Normality had always been firmly cemented, what _was _was, what _is _is_._ Only the weak or handicapped entertained such hazardous thoughts of contemplation, as if their feeble attempts of distraction could ever provide an escape for those whom lacked power. And in a world where strength was absolute; weakness never lasted long.

I saw to that personally.

It seems impossible, yet the fact that I am still here is testament to the truth. As bitter as it may be I have to accept this. And move on.

To what though?

It matters not. I will find something, I always do. My power may have been striped of me, my body may have been taken, but my soul has not! Power; strength, it can always be reacquired. My knowledge has not been lost, nor my fierce desires and hatred of idleness, my return is only a matter of _when_ and not _if. _

Still, _now_ I am not so sure. Whatever that means. The shock must still be in my system, whatever I am now, but how could it not be when just seconds ago I was starring into the empty eyes of death? Watching as it stalked closer, and then enveloped my form entirely. A never-ending expanse of darkness threatening to snuff out my life.

Instead it took my body. I snarl.

No. Not 'it' rather 'he'. That damnable fool will only prolong the inevitable.

"It's done," a male voice speaks calmly in a language I've never heard before but one that I can now understand with little difficulty. Lacking in both clarity and usefulness, it flows without the subtlety of my native language; of a blade slipping ever so slowly into your tender heart. A stroke so fast the pain never comes; for you're already dead before your body can register the discomfort. A language with no lies, no need for anything but truth; and power, and those whom would wield it, _become_ the truth.

Gods, some called us.

Devils.

Angels.

The name matters not. Instead it drones forever on like the monotonous tidings of morality and reason; ever perpetuating in a world that would be better off without. Long words whose meaning could change drastically upon accentuation, primitive and deceitful no doubt. The language of fools and weaklings. Of people whom would rather watch their own meager skills degenerate faster than their decrepit bodies. The walking dead, well soon enough they'll just be dead.

I'll see to it myself.

I smile at the thought almost tasting the blood.

Foolish Shinobi seek to place limitations on their already abysmal potential. Morality? I scoff, such things aren't needed nor wanted. Power is the only thing that matters, for with power comes truth, with enough power the truth bends to you alone. Evil? Purity? Pain? Happiness? How useless. These idiotic _humans_ create the weirdest of things.

But then again, I suppose, I am one now.

Physically any way.

Judging by the tone, something I've never paid attention to until now, the speaker is young; remarkably young for one so powerful. Though his power pales in comparison to my own; he only found a means to divert it elsewhere. "I wish things could have been different, my son." His voice is weighed down by emotion.

Sadness, my mind tells me.

Not that I really care.

How ironic, though, it seems as if the very man that did _this_ to me suffers from the delusion that I am his son. His child. The very ridiculousness of the thought!

Me, his child!

I think not!

"I wish you'd have let me use the Jutsu," a new voice speaks. Older. This time laced in resignation and a slight edge of anger. With an edge rivaling that of the sharpest blade, the words cut deeply into the younger man's heart. I can _almost_ hear the organ itself seize, constricting in violent spasms. And taste the pain fluttering across the fool's decrepit face. I can see him try, and fail to hide, it!

A content feeling floods my veins. Stilling my lungs to breathe easily, my body no longer constricts, instead it falls limp in bliss.

I don't understand nor do I want to. Although I can already feel these alien thoughts; damnable emotions, starting to take hold, I will not allow such frivolous means to tempt me!

"Sorry sensei-" the man hesitantly chuckled.

Something in the way he speaks, of nervousness laced with resignation and regret leaves me questioning why the fool hides behind his laughter. But both he and his sensei know it, embracing the awkward situation with open arms to hide their feelings in. How disgusting! I don't know if I should be more repulsed by their unwillingness to face and overcome such limitations and weakness, or the fact that it exists in the first place.

"-but it wouldn't have been right for me to let you execute _Shiki-Fuin_ if I wouldn't have been willing to use and pay the price of it." Despite the situation, the man was smiling. I grit my teeth. "I created it, it's only fitting I should be the first to use it."

The silence that came was downright oppressing as the older man struggled to speak. But there was nothing he could really say. His anger quickly began to dissipate at his successor's bittersweet words, "You could have—"

"I could have done a lot of things.. but—" he paused. "_This_ is the only way to be absolutely positive."

"What about Naruto?"

"I want to see my son grow up. I want to see Kushina one last time… but life rarely plays out how we wish it to." The older man, from which I could easily tell, grimaced upon his successor's naïve, and downright pitiful, speech. Even I can see the desperation laced upon the man's words, can feel the despair.

It's utterly addicting how beautiful this man's agony feels.

It's delightful! My mind tells me before turning once again to the mesh of candor at my existence.

Oh, I see now. He needed a living container to hold me, the fool thought that a newly born human could contain the soul of the strongest of demons? I would laugh, but I can not summon the strength. It maters not, the body is mine and mine alone!

Containment seals only prolong the inevitable.

"Jiraiya will never forgive you, you know?"

"Ero-sennin will get ove—" the older man interrupted. This time he could not contain his anger as it bled heatedly past his calm facade and into his words.

"Minato, you may have _been_ a powerful Shinobi," Sarutobi countered, placing a strong emphasis on the word 'been' like it's a past tense now. How absolutely wonderful! The fool will soon be dead. I can no longer help myself for all reality soon leaves me in this orgasmic embrace of eternity.

My vision distorts.

Dead.

The sharp agony quickly bleeds into euphoria coursing through my veins. A hot, volatile essence washing away reality as I throw my head back and let lose a wail of laughter. Chest thrust out, rising and sinking almost frantically as if in a seizure. Waves of warmth course through my veins, igniting a pyre of iridescent flames raging forth their terrible wrath. Upon acceptance, it grows, nourishing the hatred I embrace it fully.

It is my own. My hate, my anger, my lovely little resentment, it empowers me so! And all before, that challenges, me shall fall!

But no sound escapes my lips.

It matters not. This feeling, this presence. How utterly addicting it is! Oh how I long to once again mesh myself into this beautiful agony. To let the slick blood encompass my form in a hue of crimson delight. Bodies stripped bare. Dismembered in a pile of reddish slop.

Dead.

I want.. No I need this.

A shudder racks my body.

Mouth open in longing.

Dead.

Again the waves of pleasure come, and again I meet them in a perpetual embrace.

This man. The one I had thrown myself into a haze of death and destruction to find. Whom I longed to feel beneath me, in my own hands, as his last breath leaves him. To see that once strong face slacken in death, and feel is body shutter and seize. He is now dying!

My vision blurs in lust.

As if meeting my longing, I delve into the dark bottomless hell deep within me. The reservoir of oceans I had long since cultivated through a millenia of violence. My beautiful, utterly endless chakra in all it's naked fierce-some glory, rises up to meet my call. A river cascading anew, diverged from it's current, it flows with the wrath of nature. Powerful, supreme, unconquerable, it flows downward, washing away everything in its path. Whether it be rock or earth, person or God, it is destroyed utterly, and completely.

Before I can lose myself in it's wonderful embrace of the heavens, the tidal surge of energy halts, no longer replying to my call. The sudden jerk awakes my presence. It's blasphemy! Why?

Why won't you fucking respond to me?

Obey my call! Destroy me enemies!

_No! _A voice tells me. But I do not care.

I will NOT be denied this! Calling forth my full desire, I will it into reality to respond. My full embodied desire, for revenge, for fulfillment, for complete and utter destruction rages forth. Fierce tendrils of darkness surge into reality; a manifestation of my rage. But moreso, my conviction towards the _taint _of the human condition. Feelings, I laugh, oddly enough empower me more-so than every before as I feel myself teetering over the once thick unbreakable line of insanity.

Stronger than ever, in my eons of existence, it beckons an equal force of spiritual power. My beautiful, endless, euphoric Chakra.

It will meet my call.

Together we will mesh our wondrous desires into manifestation; a haze, a will, a presence so strong not even the God's themselves could ignore me. Feeling the endless ocean beneath me, I dive into the depth of power with a grin. A soft, smile I think, covers my face as my vision blurs once again as I sink deeper and deeper.

Heightened by the depth of energy at my disposal, my body shudders in ecstasy.

My own personal drug to ascend the heavens of the high with.

And then the beautiful fall back towards reality; and the cataclysm that would follow.

The spirals of energy, every twisting away in a shower of sparks and flames, convulsing. Deep strands of scarlet and crimson intertwine, before all activity suddenly stops in a thunderous surge of electricity.

My voice leaves me, my body no longer responding as if the tendons and nerves were suddenly fried beyond repair. Like a doll with her strings cut; surprise and astonishment have rid my body of it's willingness to move. As my Chakra itself lies beyond my ability to control.

Behind the endless surge of chakra, I see a child. A baby, my mind tells me. As if to smile at me, he extends his feeble little hand as if taunting me. For a moment, I truly see red.

I hold out my own, claws clacking together. Razors strong enough to once shred the unbreakable bones of the immortal, Euryale, flashed dangerously.

Nothing happens.

And my power, my endless demonic energy, answers his call and returns to the well.

Still in the haze of desire, all I can mutter is a long shriek of a wail. _"Fuck you Yondaime, and fuck your son!" _Before the darkness of the dawn proceeds to envelop me in her nightmarish embrace thrusting me from the caverns of my mind out unto this blood crusted earth of reality.

Somehow, an utterly unnatural, intangible, awareness strikes mercilessly and I know it's not darkest before the dawn.

The iniquity of this life is only just beginning.

Xxxxx

Author's Note: Well, while still shorter than what I had hoped for, it is still just a prologue. And what a one it was; probably the single most enjoyable piece I have written in a long time. That's probably because writing Kyuubi perspective is fun.

Ok now some real notes for anyone reading this and some things to keep in mind.

This story is mostly Kyuubi-centric; however Naruto will still be playing a major roll as a form of causality. The further the story progresses the stronger, and more significant, his actions will be as they in turn effect Kyuubi's. It will stick somewhat reasonably close to cannon, while not adhering strictly, although it will take awhile to get there.

In case you don't understand; The roles are reversed. Naruto himself is trapped behind the seal along with Kyuubi's chakra, while Kyuubi herself is in control of the human body along with Naruto's chakra coils. As such now, she must build her power up from scratch.

Don't expect her to be some force of God after a mere decade or so of training. It took her several _millennia_ of bloodshed to reach the point she was at before being sealed. And while she still holds knowledge, and that will help to cut the time required shorter; it's not enough to make her instantly powerful.

This is not an Evil Kyuubi fic. She's not going to annihilate everyone the first chance she gets; this is about her growth and experience of having to give up EVERYTHING she once held precious and living her life as a mortal.

Unlike my other fics; This one will not be overly dark or depressing. It's about growth more than anything else, and the courage needed to continue walking forward even as the entire world, and the God's themselves, seem against you.

Neiiya out.


End file.
